


within these great halls lies an empty throne

by beetlejuice



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M, Mt. Silver, green is so done with red's shit, its pre-slash, kind of, lance hates the cold, pikachu is protective, red's emotionally retarded, send help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 16:17:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1394131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetlejuice/pseuds/beetlejuice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after being defeated by Red, Lance grows tired of waiting for the true champion to return to his rightful throne, so he goes to find him instead. </p>
<p>Lance/Red</p>
            </blockquote>





	within these great halls lies an empty throne

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
> 
> Playing Pokemon puts weird ideas into my head. This is one of them.

_The end at the edge of the world, where everything falls away_

 

Lance felt more like a guardian these days, a dragon guarding an empty throne; the two people to ever defeat him so effortlessly had left the Elite Four after their fearsome clash. He had heard the battle rage, the cries of their pokémon as they ordered every devastating attack. In the end, only one stood victorious.

 

Green had left in defeat and Red had left in silence, pulling his hat further down hiding his piercing eyes from view. His Pikachu sat on his shoulder, the powerful electric mouse casting sad eyes on its trainer. Lance had watched all of this from a distance, his Dragonite standing by his side, its soulful eyes seeing the unspoken undertones of the scene unraveling before him.

 

Victory, it seemed had become a bitter reward.

 

 

Two years passed. Two very boring years with Lance still the last of the Elite Four and as far as the rest of the world knew, the resounding champion of both the Kanto and Johto leagues. His title was empty now, nothing more than a broken lie with only remnants of the truth peering out from its jagged edges.

 

The throne of the king was empty and Lance had become nothing more than a mere steward, watching over it until one day the true champion returned and claimed his place among the Elite Four.

 

 

Staring at Mt. Silver Lance wondered how he never knew that the greatest pokémon trainer had been so close for these past two, long years. It was Green, who had told him, standing in the shadows of his darkened gym, his beloved Eevee sitting on his shoulder.  

 

Lance had gone to him, in the hopes of convincing him to take up his place in the Elite Four, but Green had only graced with a thin, fractured smile. “I am no champion,” he had said.

 

“Neither am I,” Lance replied, his words coming out more bitter than he had intended.

 

Green’s smile fled and he turned his back on the dragon trainer, his eyes seemingly unfocused as he looked for something that wasn’t in front of him. “You should try climbing Mt. Silver,” he said ambiguously, “you might find something interesting.”

 

Lance had felt his heart jump in his throat as a strange feeling began growing in his chest. He had only visited Mt. Silver a handful of times, but had never bothered to climb to the summit; there were no dragons residing on the cold, icy mountain for him to catch and train and they were never any trainers that were allowed to venture there without all sixteen badges so he was never called to rescue anyone. But now as he stood before the imposing mountain, his felt his stomach twist in angry, nervous knots as he cautiously made his way through the tall grass, to the lone Pokémon Center that resided at the base of the mountain.

 

The levels of the wild pokémon were nothing compared to his own team, but he could only imagine the feeling of excitement and terror of the few trainers that were allowed here to hone their skills; it really was the perfect place for someone like Red. He really should’ve known.

 

 

The climb up Mt. Silver was taxing even for him. His sedentary lifestyle had softened him and he found himself hating the ice and snow with a renewed passion as he brushed aside the Sneasel and Golbat that crossed his path. His Dragonite followed behind him, its keen senses alert for any hidden enemies that made their homes in these icy caverns.

 

Halfway up the pokémon began getting scarcer and scarcer, until Lance was hard-pressed to find any at all. Even his Dragonite looked edgy, its eyes looking towards the summit they had yet to reach; even as a human Lance knew power when he felt it. He had a feeling that Red and his team was the cause of this, he was sure of it, in fact.

 

The wind howled and cried, careening over the jagged cliffs and throwing blinding snow into the frigid air. And there, at the edge of the mountain, on the edge of the world stood Red, his back facing him as he gazed at whatever was beneath him.

 

And Lance realized something. The last chamber of the Elite Four was no throne room and despite its refinery and elegance was not fit for a king, not _this_ king. Here, on top of the world, on top of the hardest mountain anyone could think of conquering was the real throne. Here, in its savage beauty, where the weak had no place, stood the king—the most powerful of them all.

 

For a long moment only the wind and the snow spoke between them, until finally Lance found his tongue. “Green told me where to find you.”

 

Red didn’t answer, he didn’t even turn around. Lance had expected as much, despite their brief meeting, which had ended in his defeat, he knew Red never talked unless necessary. Even ordering his pokémon to attack had been wordless; the slightest twitch of his hand could mean anything from _dodge_ to _finish this_.

 

He let his actions speak for him, showing he was a man more adept at living in the wilds with powerful pokémon than he was living in the civilized world with people.

 

“I had to find you,” he said, his voice barely making it over the howling winds.

 

Red finally turned to face him; his Pikachu snuggled in his arms. Those garnet eyes blinked at him in what Lance could only imagine was confusion.

_Why?_ The unspoken question echoed between them.

 

But Lance answered with a question of his own, “Why didn’t you take the title? Why didn’t you dethrone me?” There was a breathless desperation in his voice now. He was so tired of this lie of letting other trainers admire him for the being the _best_ , when in reality he didn’t even come in second.

 

Red looked at him for a long moment, those keen, sharp eyes seemed to peel away his defenses until he was laid bare and raw for all to see.

 

“I didn’t belong,” even the wind seemed to die down in deference to his quiet answer.

 

Those words made Lance ache, deep and hurting for the man (no longer a boy) who stood unwavering in front of him. He understood; he had never belonged anywhere either, he had just been better at hiding it. He created a niche for himself, honing his skills and his pokémon until he stood alone, where no one could touch him. By then it was too late when he had realized he had created his own isolation, much like Red.

 

What a terrible legacy to hold and to pass on.

 

He looked down, his lips twisting into a sad grimace. “I understand,” was all he said.

 

Surprise burned bright in those eyes before dying in the frigid embrace of forced indifference. Silence took the place of words.

 

Lance sighed, “What are you waiting for?”

 

Red turned away from him, looking over his cruel, icy kingdom as he looked for a way to properly articulate his answer. In the end, he could answer with only the truth, “For someone powerful. For someone to defeat me.” The longing in his words made something deep in Lance ache, as if his chest had taken a debilitating blow. And despite being unspoken, he heard the underlying plea beneath his broken words: _for someone to find me._

 

He heard his Pikachu coo soothingly at his trainer, as if trying to apologize for growing so strong. Red hushed her with a soft pet, holding her closer to his thin chest.

 

Lance inhaled sharply, stepping forward, the snow crunching noisily beneath his feet and the icy wind cutting through his thick cloak, the cold biting into his flesh and sinking into his bones. _How could Red stand this?_

 

The true champion turned to face him, confusion drawn on his expression; Pikachu jumped onto her trainer’s shoulder, her red cheeks sparking in warning as streaks lightning arced around them, brief flashes of paralyzing light within the ever-lasting storm. Dragonite followed behind him, eyeing the electric mouse warily; two years had not been enough to forget that defeat, when that tiny mouse had felled his greatest partner in a brief, but no less devastating attack, _thunder_.

 

Lance splayed out his hands in front of him, showing he wasn’t here to challenge or goad. He only stopped when he got within touching distance of Red, he reached out, but stopped short as another flash of lightning darted too close for comfort. A warning.

 

He looked down, catching Red’s fierce, empty gaze in his own. “I found you,” he said softly.

 

Red’s expression fell slack, as if the concept of his words escaped him at first before finally sinking in. He remained rooted to the spot, disbelief replacing the cold emptiness and Lance couldn’t help but see it as an improvement.

 

“Come down,” he said, reaching for him slowly giving him time to pull away. He didn’t. Pikachu growled at him in warning, but she was no longer spitting lightning, he felt his Dragonite marginally relax behind him.

 

Slowly he coaxed the young man into his arms, shielding him from the lashing wind with his cloak. Red remained stiff and unyielding in his arms, his face pressed into his shoulder, “I don’t belong there.”

 

Lance smiled faintly, “Neither do I.” _But we don’t belong up here either._ “Come down,” he said again.

 

Red didn’t say anything, but he didn’t protest either.

 

 

Green somehow knew everything Lance decided when they saw the last gym leader waiting for them at the Pokémon Center at the base of the mountain. He and Red seemed to size each other up, like they would do years ago before a battle; their two unique starter pokémon sat on their shoulders doing the same, their eyes bright and almost relieved as they fell on each other, reflecting their trainer’s eyes as well.

 

In a blur of movement Green pulled his rival into a sturdy embrace and then the words came spilling out. Angry, hurt and worried as he lectured Red for his recklessness, for leaving without a word, for not having the decency to tell his mother good-bye or where he was going.

 

A part of Lance wanted to intervene, but he knew Red needed to here this and more so, Green needed to get it out.

 

When the words finally ran out and the only thing Green could do now was cling to his best friend, his _brother_ and make him promise to never do anything like that again.

 

Red still looked a little dazed and cowed by his rival’s lecture and the only thing he could do was nod. Green pulled away, his usual smirk lighting up his handsome features as he playfully tugged the cap down past Red’s eyes.

 

“Alright then. Come on, I’m starving,” Green said, leading the way to the Pokémon Center.

 

 

Lance returned to the Elite Four, a place he had called home for a number of years now, this time with Red by his side. He knew the champion would not here to stay; domesticity did not suit someone like him. It didn’t even suit Lance, although he had buried his discontent under the ideals of loyalty and obligation.

 

They were not staying.

 

He would of course return to the League when a challenger (few that they are) would appear and battle all those who made it.

 

 

 

Red was heading to Johto, he gave no explanation as to why, but Lance could almost see a _knowing_ in those eyes, as if there was something waiting for him there. Lance was going with him; it would give him an excuse to visit his cousin.

 

Green would look after the Kanto region for them along with the rest of the gym leaders. It had been a long time since Lance had seen Green smirk like that, not in two years.

 

**.  
**

_In this beginning, we walk towards a shining future_

 

The road to New Bark Town was sadly easy. Any trainer they came across immediately backed down once they saw Lance, who was easily recognizable due to him being the _face_ of the Elite Four. Red remained in the shadows, using the dragon trainer’s fame to his advantage; if anybody saw the boy with the garnet eyes and a Pikachu on his shoulders, they never remembered him after seeing Lance and his flashy Dragonite.

 

It was how Red preferred it.

 

 

New Bark Town sharply reminded him of his own home, the small, neat houses and the professor’s lab all sequestered away by an alcove near the sea. Although, where the ocean off of Pallet Town made the wind grow cold and terrible, the water an icy-gray as it crashed against the rocky shore, so very different from here. The sun seemed shine with absurd intensity, the sky clear and beautiful; their ocean was sparkling, warm and inviting as the town’s children and resident pokémon splashed playfully among the calm, soothing waves.

 

It was different. _Shiner_ perhaps, if a town could actually be shiny.

 

He watched from a distance, his team lounging behind him; he could feel their relief when they found themselves no longer on Mt. Silver. Charizard, much like the great fire lizard he was, had sprawled himself on the nearest rock, sunbathing himself, his orange scales growing hot to the touch. Snorlax had joined him, his great dark body resembling a massive boulder.

 

Lance had disappeared to the nearest city, to restock their supplies. Red had let him go with barely a glance, his attention focused on two boys (one that had just entered the professor’s lab and the other peering inside, no doubt thinking about a stealing a pokémon). Red made no move to stop the red haired kid, he knew that look in his eyes, one of dark, burning anger and the cold, strangling grip of isolation and abandonment.

 

Red wanted to know if he could become strong enough to overcome them. The other boy, with the gold and black hat, paired with goggles reminded him of a kinder, more humbled version of Green: outgoing and charismatic, drawing people to him like the force of a magnet.

 

He watched the boy exit the building, saying good-bye to his Marill-toting friend, a small Cynaquil standing curiously at the boy’s feet. The boy turned and picked up the small fire-mouse, heading back to what Red presumed to be his home.

 

The red-haired kid still hadn’t made his move, resting his back against the building as nervous eyes assessed his surroundings, searching for any hidden threats.

 

The feeling returned, the tightness of anticipation clawing at his chest. These two were the ones; where other trainers had tried and failed, they would keep pushing forward, nowhere to go but the top. Red felt a small smile pull at his thin lips, a fire starting in his veins.

 

_Let the future yawn before us as we walk towards it without fear or hesitation_

 

 

— _Fin._

 

 

  


End file.
